Living in a Memory
by ElizabethMiddleford14
Summary: England wakes up in a familiar place and is confronted by bittersweet memories of his life with his colony, America. These memories are alarming to Britain, and he wonders if this is all just a cruel dream.
1. Chapter 1

_Wake up…_

England stirred a little bit in his sleep at the noise, but nonetheless, he remained asleep.

_Come on, wake up…_

England muttered something as he slept, and his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. He stirred again, and covered his head, trying to block out the sound.

_WAKE UP!_

England's eyes alarmingly shot open out of shock. His heart raced a bit, but when he realized that no one was there, he let his shoulders relax, and he sighed. He rubbed the back of his neck, and inhaled the warm air that surrounded him. It smelled like…fresh grass?

He rubbed his eyes and groggily looked around at his surroundings. He was outdoors, near the end of a meadow, and he sat against the trunk of a large tree. He must have dozed off when taking a walk through the meadow near his home probably.

England let his vision focus, and allowed himself to take in the landscape better. It looked like it was around springtime, judging by the way the flowers bloomed along the tall blades of grass and how the birds chirped merrily in unison. And how the sun was shining brightly overhead, England figured that it was sometime in the afternoon. When did he get here exactly and how long had he been sleeping outside so carelessly?

With an annoyed groan, he used the side of the trunk to assist him with standing up. He leaned lazily on the tree's great trunk and let his eyes fall again. The relaxing atmosphere around him was taking him back into his trance…

"ENGLAND~!" a high-pitched yet sweet voice called from behind him. England recognized the voice from somewhere. Somewhere that was in the back of his memories. Could it be…

England turned around quickly, not believing what he had heard. Eyes wide with anticipation, his head was repeating the same phrase over and over.

_It can't be. It can't be. It can't be. It can't be-_

Emerging from a tuft of green grass was a young boy with a bright, cheery face. Dirty blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and a piece of hair that bobbed happily on the top of his head. It was definitely him. America. But he was young again. The little boy with no home, but received one when England took him in.

England felt his face flush. It this some sort of an illusion? America had grown up into his own country many years ago. Why was he here, at the age that he was when England first took him in as his own brother?

The British man said nothing as the little America darted at him, face glowing with joy. He was too much in shock to acknowledge the situation. It was only when America jumped up on England and wrapped his arms cutely around the Brit's shoulders when England decided to greet America.

"H-Hello, America." He stuttered, still unsure if this was the REAL America.

"Hi England! I was looking all over for you, and I finally found you out here~!" the small boy chirped, proud of his accomplishment.

England was still uncertain if America was really in front of him, but he smiled gently and decided to play along for a while. When he had America as a colony; that is when he was happiest. He had nothing to worry about, because when he came home, no matter what happened, America would run towards him and welcome him home with his sweet, childish voice. England grinned wider at the bittersweet memory.

America giggled as England held him in a lasting embrace. England took America and set him down slowly from his shoulders and placed him on the grass. America looked up at him, his eyes sparkling innocently.

England took a second to really look at the child. This little America was the true image of purity and innocence. Nothing bad could ever come from him. He was sweet, caring, and was always there when England had needed him. Tilting his head to the side, England smiled at America again.

"Come on, America. Let's go home, shall we?" England offered, kneeling down on one knee and holding his hand out for America to receive it.

America looked at his hand curiously. Then he looked up at England's face, a wide, toothy grin plastered across his face. "England. I'm so happy to have you as my big brother! I love you so much, so don't ever leave me, ok?" he asked the Brit.

England's eyes widened in a bit of shock, but quickly composed himself. "Of course America. I will always be with you. Forever." He grinned at the American boy reassuringly.

America's face lit up again and he gently took England's hand.

Then the moment their fingertips touched, a bit of smoke overlapped their hands. England looked back behind him and saw the smoke that was creeping quickly over the hill. Frantically, he turned back to face America, but saw that the smoke surrounded him from behind.

England blinked and rubbed his eyes, but still, he saw nothing but swirling clouds of gray overhead.

"A-AMERICA!" he yelled as loudly as he could. England's lungs were filled with the deadly toxins of the smoke. He coughed and hacked violently as his eyes were stinging and blurred.

"America!" He shouted again, weaker than before.

Then from the shadows of the smoke, he could see what seemed like a figure of a man racing towards him. England rubbed his eyes and squinted at the figure. Who could that-

England could feel a heavy military boot hit him directly in the stomach. England's breath was lost from the sudden impact of the hit, and he clutched his stomach with a groan. Without seeing the figure, England was forcefully shoved down, and into the mud beneath him.

England was on the ground, on his hands and knees, and saw smoke that grazed the surface of the gray-brown mud beneath him. His eyes widened at the familiar smell of gunpowder and the screams of soldiers. He lifted his hands from the muddy terrain slowly and shakily and noticed the sleeves from the jacket that he was wearing.

It was a red coat. The one he wore from when he participated in the Revolutionary War so many years-

England's heart nearly stopped from this realization. His throat became dry and a lump formed in the middle of his throat as he realized where he was. He lifted his head weakly to look at the figure that had forced him down to the ground.

Standing above him was a grown man, proudly showing off his superiority through his military uniform's colors. Red, white, and blue. His colors. The colors that showed his independence; his desire for separation.

The tears welled up in England's eyes as he was forced to live through this day again. Standing before him was the one person who he could go to for comfort. The one person who kept him happy all of these years when he needed some cheering up. Britain stared weakly, defeated, at his former beloved colony.

No. His former beloved brother.

**So. I'm back with more ideas :3**

**This was actually a request from a good friend of mine, and I decided to give it a shot ^_^**

**((I still have to finish my GerIta story, soon…))**

**if you're currently confused on what the heck is going on, it will ALL be explained next chapter :D but I bet you can probably figure it out with the transitions and stuff :O**

**Ok. Feel free to leave comments ^_^**

**Ciao!**


	2. Chapter 2

**This chapter will be written in England's POV, just a heads up ^_^**

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I stared into America's blue eyes as they screamed at me how much they wanted to leave me. To leave me alone to burn down in this war. But I knew that the thought couldn't be true. In his eyes, I almost saw pity.

"England what happened to-" he began, slowly. No. Not this again.

"Stop." I cried out weakly to him. I couldn't stand to be lectured by him a second time. It would be too much, and I wouldn't be able to bear the pain once more.

"Just…stop." I continued, lowering my head and sighing heavily. "I don't want to fight anymore. Leave me here. Just…go."

"England I-" he started again, stepping closer to me.

"SHUT UP!" I screamed at him as loudly as I could. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves just enough to not yell at him at all anymore. "You want to become independent? Well go ahead. You don't need me anymore, so just. Leave."

America stood there motionless for a second. The silence was overwhelming. The screaming and the gunshots were over now, and now we could only hear the sound of the pouring rain that hits the mud.

I looked up at him with an unintentional scowl on my face, and I didn't bother to change my expression. America looked as though he was going to say something, but instead, he looked away from my eyes and turned around.

As if he was contemplating on what to do next, he stood there in the mud, facing his army.

"…Let's go men. There's nothing more to do here." America said, his voice filled with authority. With that, he and his men began to march away into the rain and the smoke from the guns.

I watched him as he and his people left me there, defenseless. There he goes. My only brother. The only person in the world that I thought I could trust, and who would always be there for me as I protected him. The only one who would dare to even care about me…but now, that was just a hollow memory…

No.

It can't end like this.

Maybe if I could talk to him and tell him about how I feel about all this. Though I was a bit harsh on him and his people, I did what I thought was best for developing a strong country. Was that so wrong? And after all the wars I fought trying to protect him, is this how he repays me?

I stood up from the mud, legs wobbling beneath me. I stuck my arms out to regain my balance, but I had to be quick. America was still walking away and I had to stop him. I just needed to talk to him…

I started walking slowly forward, my body heavy and unstable, as if I had never walked before in my life. Then as I got control of myself, I picked up the pace. I began to fast walk and then broke into a jog, which turned into a full sprint.

As I approached the American, I reached out my right hand to grab his shoulder to get his attention.

I then caught up with him and was standing only about a foot behind him. I hung my head low, unsure of how to start. My arm trembled. I still tried to inch my hand closer to his shoulder-

"America, please listen-" I began, my hand gently resting on the top of his shoulder and my left hand reaching for the back of his coat in order to grab it if he tries to run away.

**SPLURT!**

My eyes widened at the noise, because it sounded like the sound of something piercing someone's body. A sound all too familiar. But then I realized…

What was I holding in my left hand?

I let go of America's shoulder and stumbled backward, dazed and confused. Now that I could see, I knew that it was there. I saw the sharp blade of a bayonet buried deep into America's back.

_Oh God…No. No. I didn't do that. No. NO._

I covered my head with my arms, trying to pace back and forth, but unable to walk. I wanted to scream and run away. I wanted to stay to be next to him. I knew what was going to happen next.

America, who was once motionless while standing under the rain began shaking and the bayonet remained in his back, and the blood around the blade was seeping through his jacket and dripping down from the blade itself.

His army kept walking, as if they heard and suspected nothing.

"America…" I muttered, trying to keep a level head as he stood there in the mud, shaking furiously. He fell to his knees with a thud.

"AMERICA!" I yelled to him. I ran over as quickly as I could, my hand reaching out to him.

When I got to him, he pulled the bayonet out of his back. He fell to the ground slowly, but I caught him before he could hit the ground.

"Oh God, America! You shouldn't have pulled the blade out yet!" I stuttered quietly as I saw the blood spill from his back and soak through the front of his uniform. My fingers trembled as I pushed the stray hair on his head away from his face. "Look at all of this blood…"

"England…" America whispered gently, eyes barely able to stay open. I set his head down on my lap as I sat next to him. He weakly lifted his arm up, and I took his hand in mine, holding our hands to my heart.

"This is all my fault…I didn't want this to happen…" I whispered, clenching his hand tighter.

"Did you…try to stab me…?" America whispered.

"N-NO!" I yelled back at him, tears now streaming down my pale cheeks. "I WOULD NEVER HURT YOU AMERICA! I WOULD NEVER EVEN DREAM OF THAT!"

America looked into my eyes, displaying his true colors. Afraid, weak, and full of sorrow. This appearance of his…I don't want to see him like this. It's all too much.

He smiled at me, the best smile he could muster.

"I know, Arthur…" he whispered, his eyes still gazing at me and twinkling. They filled up with tears. "I know you would never hurt me…but is this really how it's going to end…?"

"No." I replied flatly. It was true. I wouldn't let it end like this. "You're going to be ok. As long as I'm here, Alfred, nothing is going to happen to you. Just like I swore back then, I will say it again. I will always protect you. I will always be there for you."

His breathing patterns started to get heavier. I could see that he was trying to stay awake. To stay alive. But I knew by looking at all this blood, he doesn't have that much time left.

I lowered my head and began to silently sob. Tears rushed down my face one by one as I thought about what will happen. I'm going to lose him, and there was still so much that I needed to tell him.

"Arthur…" He began again, eyes wide. "Would you…please sing that old lullaby to…me?"

My eyes widened and the tears kept flowing down my cheeks. I could see tears slowly flow down America's face as well. We both didn't want our paths to end here.

"…Of course America." I replied eventually. I tried not to hiccup and gasp for air as I sung to him. I wanted his last moments with me to be pure and memorable.

"Goodnight my angel, time to close your eyes

And save these questions for another day…"

I began softly, stroking America's hair gently as he smiled at my voice.

"I think I know what you've been asking me

I think you know what I've been trying to say.

I promised I would never leave you.

Then you should always know

Wherever you may go, no matter where you are,

I never will be far away."

America blinked slowly and kept listening to my voice. He stared up at me with a smiling face and sparkling eyes, just like how his eyes looked back then when he was a child. More blood seeped through his coat. I tried not to noticed, but more tears streamed down my face and I was more choked up while singing. I continued,

"Goodnight, my angel, now it's time to sleep.

And still so many things I want to say.

Remember all the songs you sang for me

When we went sailing on an emerald bay.

And like a boat on the ocean,

I'm rocking you to sleep.

The water's dark and deep, inside this ancient heart.

You'll always be a part of me."

"Arthur…wait." America said. I looked down at his face, his smile faded into a look of worry and doubt.

"Yes Alfred? What is it?" I replied.

"I want to tell you something. Something that has been bothering me for years now." He started. I raised a brow, but I felt a small blush on my face. "One of the reasons that I am becoming independent…is that…I'm afraid that I'll fall even more in love with you, Arthur."

My eyes widened. My face was so red, I could feel it. I didn't know what to say. Even MORE in love with…me?

"What I'm saying is, Arthur." America said. "…I love you."

"…" I said nothing at first. This was too much to handle. He loved me? He felt the same way? Even when he's dying he sure can be quite the outgoing hothead. But, he's MY outgoing hothead. "America," I began, pushing his hair from his face again. "I love you too."

America took the back of my neck and pulled me closer to him slowly. I looked at him questioningly, but then I saw that his eyes were closing slowly. I realized what was happening, but I did nothing to stop it. I didn't want to stop it. I closed my eyes…

…And our lips touched delicately. Such a gentle kiss, but so powerful and meaningful. Full of modesty, but so passionate at the same time. The best way to have my first kiss with the one I love.

We parted; our eyes gazed longingly at each other. We both knew that our first kiss would be our last. We said nothing about it though. I wanted to live in the moment and not think of what's to come.

He still held my neck, and his smile was fading more and more, and his hand that I have been holding the whole time began trembling harder. But still, I continued to smile as best as I could.

"Goodnight my angel, now it's time to dream,

And dream how wonderful your life will be.

Someday your child may cry, and if you sing this lullaby…"

I started to get choked up on my tears and my voice was weaker as I sang,

"Someday we'll all be gone,

But lullabies go on and on.

They never die.

That's how you and I will be…"

America's arm slumped down from behind my neck and het the ground with a thud. His hand that I was holding was no longer supporting itself, and it grew cold.

His eyes were dulled and gray, blankly staring up at me. He died with a smile on his face.

I took my fingers and closed his eyelids.

I shakily brought my lips to his forehead and kissed it while whispering,

"Goodnight…Alfred…"

I took his head and held it close to my face while I sobbed. My tears dripped on his cold, lifeless face.

I started shaking more and more, my teeth gritted together.

Gone. He's gone. Gone…

"No…" I whispered, teeth still grinding together. "No, America! NO!"

I held his head to my chest and screamed up at the pouring rain to no one in particular, "NOOOOOOOOO! DON'T TAKE HIM! GIVE HIM BACK! PLEASE!"

I looked down at his pale face again.

"Please…give him back…I beg of you…I can't live without him…" I hugged him close to me, sobbing quietly.

"Give him back…I love him…"

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**TT^TT I'm sorry.**

**America is dead and England can't handle it…/sobbing**

**Chapter 3 coming soon ^_^**


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